


Bliss

by nerdypipsqueak



Series: Fictober 2019 [11]
Category: A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia (1990), Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: Fictober 2019, M/M, Morning Sex, POV First Person, PWP, middle-aged men in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdypipsqueak/pseuds/nerdypipsqueak
Summary: Fictober prompt: “It’s not always like this.”Set in the "My Soul and Yours" universe.This is my first attempt at PWP and my first attempt at writing from Lawrence's point of view. Please forgive me if it's not perfect.





	Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Please assume (and this is a major spoiler alert for the main story) that Lawrence and Feisal's meeting at Lord Winterton's house did not end in them deciding that they don't have anything in common anymore.

It's not always like this: warm and peaceful, like the outside world does not exist. Very often I have nightmares, my worst memories returning to plague me in the dead of night, forcing me out of bed. I usually spend those bad nights reading on the chaise longue or in the bathtub.

Today, however, is a good day. I wake to the steady thump of Feisal's heartbeat beneath my ear. I'm lying half-across his body, my head and hand on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around me. I lie very still, the moment is so perfect, it's almost unreal. It reminds me of the first night we spent together, many years ago in Wejh. 

I tilt my head up to look at Feisal. Even in sleep he is regal, dignified and _devilishly_ handsome. Time has treated him kindly, a lot kinder than me. It has softened me, made me weak and fat. I can barely stand my own reflection in the mirror, that lump of flesh that is supposed to be me. 

"Good morning, sweetheart." Feisal smiles at me drowsily. "Did you sleep well?"

I nod, I don't feel like talking yet. He strokes my hair, his hand cupping the back of my head, and gently pulls me down for a kiss. I shift onto my side to give him better access and he follows, eagerly chasing my lips. After all these years, after all the pain and bloodshed we'd seen and survived, he still wants me. I want him too.

I roll onto my back. He knows this is an invitation, the closest I can ever get to actually asking.

"Are you sure?" Feisal runs a fingertip along the line of my jaw. I nod, I am absolutely certain. I trust him implicitly.

"May I?" Feisal gestures towards the buttons of my nightshirt. I nod again. He opens the top buttons deftly, one-handed and pushes the fabric aside. I tilt my head back, another silent invitation, which he accepts, nuzzling my neck, moving upwards, nipping at my ear. He begins sucking on it and I tremble, gripping his shoulders. He descends, showering my neck with lazy open-mouthed kisses. It's such a simple thing yet it feels... Oh God, I can barely string two thoughts together. It feels like he's worshipping me.  
I wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him closer, so he's lying on top of me. He rubs himself against me and the friction is so delicious that I can't help myself, I moan softly. 

"Is that good?" Feisal asks, his voice husky with want.

"Yes." I murmur. I can feel him smiling against my skin. He slips a hand under the blanket, finding the hem of my nightshirt. He hikes it up roughly enough to startle me and I have to remind myself that this is Feisal, my Feisal, who would never hurt me or do anything against my will.

"Are you alright?" He asks, carefully studying me.

"I'm fine. Don't stop."

He leans in and kisses me long and deep. Beneath the blanket his fingernails scrape lightly against the skin of my thigh, sending sparks up my spine. His hand moves over my hip, my waist, onto my chest, fingers rubbing my nipple through the fabric of my nightshirt. I moan into his mouth, the intensity of the sensations and of my own desire still surprises me. 

Feisal pulls away with some difficulty and reaches for the little vial of rose oil on his bedside table. I watch as he draws the blanket aside, hikes my nightshirt a little further up and slicks his fingers. The oil is cold and I can't stop myself from shuddering.

"Still alright?" Feisal pauses.

"Yes." I whisper. "Kiss me?"

"Of course." He nips at my chin before descending on my chest. He trails kisses along the line of the thin scar left there by a Circassian whip, his fingers working into me steadily. I shiver again, this time with anticipation. I want him, all of him, I need him now, right now...

Finally he's pushing into me, entering me and it hurts a little, just a little, I can take it, all of it. He's fully sheathed now but not moving. He's waiting for me, he wants to be absolutely sure that I'm comfortable.

"You feel so good." Feisal strokes my hair and I relax beneath him. "You're so sweet, so beautiful."

"Hardly tha- oh!" He thrusts and I lose the ability to speak. All I can do is gasp and moan in blinding pleasure as he picks up his pace. He hooks his elbow under my knee, adjusting the angle of his thrusts and _oh God_, that's _it_, there, right there, I'm falling to pieces, I'm dying and it's the sweetest death in the entire universe... Feisal kisses my lips as he follows me over the edge.

"Are you alright?" Feisal asks at few minutes later. "For a moment I thought you had fainted."

"I'm perfect." I whisper, still trying to catch my breath. My ribs hurt quite badly but I don't want him to know that, I don't want him to worry.

"That you are." He pecks me on the cheek. "Breakfast?"

"Please." I stretch languidly. 

It's not always like this. But when it is, it's bliss.


End file.
